Heads of House
by HarryDude85
Summary: Portions of Deathly Hallows told from the four Head's of Houses perspective.
1. Never Prouder

Heads of House

By HarryDude85

I haven't stopped working on In the Cupboard, but I have so many other little ideas running through my head, that I can't wait till it's finished to work on them. So, while still trudging along with my big story, I will be sporadically posting these little, non-related stories.

* * *

Pomona Sprout was never prouder to be the Head of the Hufflepuff house than the day that Cedric Diggory's name had came from the Goblet of Fire

She knew Cedric, knew that he was a boy who was more of a figure head for the Hufflepuff's than even herself. He was handsome – her teacher responsibilities didn't make her blind to that fact -, athletic, fair minded, loyal and the kind of person who could never hold a grudge, even against those who had harmed him. Everyone in the house, even the older students, had admired and looked up to him, long before his name was called by Dumbledore.

And when he was chosen, her faith that he would make Hogwarts proud, as winner or loser, was indestructible. Even the surprise addition of Harry Potter in the competition was unable to shake her belief in Cedric's. (Although it did, she would shamefully admit years later, shake her belief in Harry)

So when Pomona watched as Cedric Diggory's coffin was lowered into the cold, hard earth, she couldn't help but feel as if the soul of the Hufflepuff house had been snuffed out with Cedric.

But it wasn't.

For while the spirit of her house had been incredibly damaged when Cedric died, the fury it had towards his murderer, and the determination to see his end, brought it back to full strength. They were all ready to prove that Cedric Diggory wasn't the only Hufflepuff that she could be proud of.

And they did.

Ernie MacMillian had always been the student in his year Pomona had to reprimand the most. He was quick to anger and judged people too harshly. When the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and after Harry's name had been selected by the goblet, Ernie was often heard making rude comments or writing inappropriate messages in Harry's direction. She had been worried that he would be the first in the house to jump on the 'Harry Potter's crazy' bandwagon that the Ministry created.

But to her shock and delight, Pomona had heard that he was actually the first one to jump speak in his defense, and yelled at a seventh year who had expressed his doubts the very first night of his fifth year.

On the other hand, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were the opposite of Ernie. While it was true that they, like the rest of the house, opposed Harry in their second and fourth years, they hadn't had a strong opinion as Ernie had. But they were very shy individuals, and tended to let Ernie speak up for them in heated discussion. In fact, Pomona could never remember every hearing Susan or Hannah raise their voice's in anger.

But, like everything else in the world, her students changed after Dumbledore was murdered.

Hannah, still coming to grips with the murder of her mother, had come back from vacation determined that if she was going to die, she would go out fighting like her mother.

Susan would always be reminded of how much she had lost every time she looked in photo albums. Once a large, talented family full of loving men and women, all that remained of her blood line was herself and her father. And she was extremely close to her aunt Amelia, who had treated Susan as her own daughter. Susan was determined to make sure that the Bones family would not end with her.

Justin, well, Pomona wished there was something to change with Justin. As he was Muggleborn, he was not allowed to come to Hogwarts this year and he was, the last Pomona knew, in hiding with his parents. But she knew that when the time came, Justin would be back in the world he belonged in, fighting to make sure muggleborns don't have to be afraid of there own power.

And Ernie, well, the easier thing to do would say how he hasn't changed. He was still as determined as ever. Still had blond hair, stood up straight, and did his homework. But now he had the hardened eyes of a warrior. He was quick to talk back to teachers. (Only two and they spat in the faces of those who actually deserved and honored the title, but still.) He was often heard praising Harry Potter and reaffirming the younger Hufflepuff's that he would save us all.

But the one thing her seventh years all had in common, besides their loyalty to Dumbledore and unrelenting faith in Harry Potter, were the scars.

They weren't permanent and were usually gone in a week, but almost every day, those three would walk into Herbology with the Gryffindor's, and all of them, Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's included, would be sporting some new cut, bruise, gash, broken limb, or limp, and they all wore their injuries with immense pride. They were doing something that they could one day tell there children and grandchildren about and make them proud.

They were resisting. Whether it was as serious as insulting the Carrow's or refusing to hex and torture a child, or as mild as handing in a piece of homework praising Harry, they were doing something which told You-Know-Who that Harry Potter wasn't the only student in Hogwarts who was willing to fight.

Pomona had pulled Hannah aside at the end of one lesson, when she had come into class unable to open her left eye it was so swollen. She had to ask her a question that Pomona knew she would regret if she didn't.

"Why do you keep doing this, Hannah? I know that you are trying to defy You-Know-Who as much as you can, and I admire you greatly for it, but there has to be a limit."

"There is, Professor," said Hannah, looking at her teacher so fiercely out of one eye. "We know our limits, and when we reach them we stop to heal. Once we do, though, we just get back up and do it again. We do this, like Neville say's, to give hope to the rest of the school. And while there is nothing that we need right now more than Harry, the next best thing we can give is hope."

As Hannah turned to join her friends back up to the castle, she turned back and said, "There was a muggle expression that Justin told me once in our fifth year, when Fudge was too busy screwing Harry to get his head out from his own ass." Pomona couldn't keep in her laugh at Hannah's colorful yet accurate description. "He said, 'If there shooting at you, you know your doing something right.' As long as they keep shooting, we'll keep doing, Professor."


	2. What Little Hope

Heads of House

By HarryDude85

Filius Flitwick: Britain's Dueling Champion.

That was the title that the Head of Ravenclaw house held, from 1964-1970. And he loved it.

When Filius was a student at Hogwarts, he knew he was talented. He wasn't being arrogant or big-headed. It was a fact and everyone knew it.

He was the best in the school at Charms. He could do things in his second year that sixth years struggled with.

So when Hogwarts announced it was holding a dueling competition in his third year, Filius signed up at once, despite the next oldest student was in his sixth year. Everyone told him 'You may be good, but you're not that good.'

He was.

He won the competition in his third, fourth, and fifth year. He would have kept on winning, except that Headmaster Dippit thought it was unfair that the same person kept winning every year and canceled it.

When Filius left school, he became a professional dueler. He traveled all over Britain, taking on people twice his age and three times his size. They all laughed when they would see a teenager who could barely reach there waist enter the arena, but Filius always showed them that what he lacked in size, he more than made up for in power.

He loved winning, but after winning 6 country wide championships, Filius tired of fighting and retired.

He still, however, loved having a challenge and being able to use his charms for a profession. So when Professor Dumbledore offered him the position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts, Filius instantly answered yes. He would still be able to use his Charms, only now it would be in a more orderly and secure fashion. And what was more challenging than teaching hundreds of students how to be experts in Charms?

What Filius didn't expect, however, was that his first year as teacher would also be the first year for James Potter and Sirius Black. Those two, along with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, made it his first seven years a constant ever changing challenge. Not to mention that his first decade of teaching coincided with the worst war the wizarding world had ever seen.

Needless to say, the 70's were a had decade.

After the downfall of Voldemort, however, Filius found his job a lot easier then it ever had been before. He was promoted to Head of Ravenclaw House in 1983, after the Astronomy teacher Professor Gurdlis retired.

It was a peaceful, quiet time, occasionally disturbed with the arrival of the Weasley twins, but nothing ever happened to make Filius to fear for the lives of his students. Not even the return of Voldemort or the mad reign of Dolores Umbridge made Filius afraid that Hogwarts was not safe anymore.

But then Snape killed Dumbledore, something that Filius still blames himself for. He was the one who fetched him, was the one who told him about the invasion. If he hadn't Snape would have known nothing about the battle that was raging floors above him. The fact that Snape had attacked him when his back was turned made him even more angry, but a small part of Filius was proud about that. The only chance Snape had at taking out the dueling master was a cheap shot from behind. Not even Voldemort's right hand man wanted to take on the tiny Charms teacher.

But now nothing was safe. Everything Filius had grown to love about teaching, about Hogwarts, was gone.

The school was now nothing more than a training camp for future Death Eaters and a prison for the rest, with the occasional Charms or Transfiguration lesson thrown in too keep the appearance of a school that it no longer was.

As the year went on, and his students gave there health and sanity in order to keep hope along, Filius couldn't help but be grateful that the number of students in his class was dwindling. While he knew that a few of the disappearances, like that of one of his favorite Ravenclaw's Luna Lovegood, was due to Death Eaters, he also knew that most of them had finally had the sense to go into permanent hiding.

As he had told the Carrow's each time one of his Ravenclaw's would vanish, he had no idea where his students had gone. And, as he also told them every time, he wouldn't tell them even if he did know. It was the one act of defiance that Filius allowed himself. Telling the madmen that he would keep his students away from them at all costs was the only way he could lash out without risk of retaliation on there part.

He wasn't scared of them, heavens no. He knew that a duel between him and the both of the Carrow's would be such an easy win for him it would border line on pathetic. He also took great pleasure in knowing they knew it to.

No, it wasn't him he was afraid for. He didn't know what the Carrow's would do to his students if he tried to defy them. Probably torture them horribly and force him to watch. Filius didn't know if he would be able to live with himself if he had to watch that, and he never wanted to find out.

So, most day's toward the end of the school year found him with empty classrooms and a lot of spare time.

He didn't know how much longer the school could last like this: daily torture sessions; students disappearing everyday; a headmaster who sat back and did nothing. The only thing that kept people's hope up, Filius' included, was the thought that Harry Potter was still out there somewhere, fighting in a way that only he and his closest friends knew and that one day he would return to make everything right.

But that hope had been lasting for months with no results. And with every day that Harry Potter remained on the run, a little bit of hope vanished.

Then, one night, not an important night, just a quiet, normal night at Hogwarts, where no screaming children were heard or acts of heroism were being preformed, everything changed.

He was in his room, just about to retire for the night, when a patronus Filius recognized instantly as Minerva's sped through his wall and stopped in front of him.

The cat looked at him before opening his mouth and saying, with Minerva's usual crisp, urgent voice, "Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts. Follow my patronus."

Finally, Filius thought as he ran out his door, hope has returned to Hogwarts.


	3. I Hate Tom Riddle

Heads of House

Heads of House

By HarryDude85

I know I said that these would be Deathly Hallows portions, and they are, but I thought it would be a good idea to delve into the characters before I got to the war.

But to please those who want more Deathly Hallows, I will be doing two chapters for each character, the second for each solely focusing on the Battle of Hogwarts.

* * *

Horace Slughorn thought he was done when he retired.

He loved teaching, loved making bonds with his students, and loved seeing the success they would achieve both in the dungeons and later in life.

He knew that one day he would retire, but didn't know it would happen as soon as it did. Because he wanted it to go on as long as it could, the ride of his teaching career.

He knew what the other teachers thought of him. He knew that all of them, even the ones he highly respected like Minerva, Filius, and even Albus, saw him as one of the rare exceptions to the otherwise unbreakable rule that all Slytherin's were evil. They knew as well as he did that he had his… less than noble qualities. Be believed that Purebloods were superior in the grand scheme of things (whatever that meant), but also knew that there were many muggleborns in the world with amazing talents that sometimes surpassed purebloods and that he loved every opportunity to be proven wrong. His love of high place connections in the Ministry and Quidditch teams and other profitable positions was notorious among the staff, but what every one of his nay-sayers, with the possible exception of Albus, didn't know was that while he did care for his baskets of sweets and Quidditch tickets and the rest of the generous gifts he received, he truly cared for the former student who sent them more.

He loved the student that was related to some influential figure, but he loved even more the student who came from sad or unusual backgrounds who rose to high position and power.

That was what attracted Horace to his two favorite students in his entire career: Tom Riddle and Lily Evans.

Like every other person in Hogwarts at the time, Horace had been bewitched by Tom's tragic story and admirable personality, taking the lad under his wing and trying to make sure that he would be alright after Tom left Hogwarts.

And while it was true that Tom had disturbed Horace greatly when he asked him, Horace, such detailed questions about Horcruxes, the next day Tom was so normal that Horace was able to tell himself that Tom always had such a passion for knowledge for new information that it wasn't disturbing at all the questions he asked. Tom had reaffirmed this when he approached Horace and was deeply apologetic about asking such unsettling questions, at that he was only curious.

Horace chose to forget that conversation and that maybe he had seen the real Tom Riddle in those five minutes and chose to fawn over the boy.

He had hoped the boy would join the Ministry after school and was one of those highly shocked when he chose to work at Borgin & Burkes.

Decades later, when Tom had reemerged under the alias of Lord Voldemort and begin his attempt to purge the world of muggleborns, Horace had never been more ashamed, of Tom yes, but even more of himself.

He had cared for the boy as a father would for a son, gave him advice, helped him when he was scared, but it was all a ruse, an act. The real Tom Riddle was the one whose eyes had shone in delight at the idea of killing innocent people, the real Tom was the one who was excited almost to the point of jubilance at the thought of ripping his soul into seven – _seven!_ – pieces.

Horace had seen the real Tom Riddle and chose to ignore it in favor of his fantasy.

So when he chose his new name, Horace became one of those people who was afraid to say it. Not out of fear of the man himself and all his power, although he was criminally powerful, but out of fear that he may have helped create the monster he was once proud to call his student. He became so afraid of his part in Tom's rise to power that he quickly changed his memory when Albus came to collect it, not wanting anyone to know what he had done.

After his immense pride in Tom had turned to death and destruction, Horace swore he would never attach himself to a student so thoroughly ever again.

He would, however, have to break that vow almost immediately.

Lily Evans was nothing like Tom Riddle, Horace could tell that instantly. For one, she was muggleborn with a very happy home life, parents and sister who she loved dearly. She was also in Gryffindor, a fact that Horace repeatedly told Minerva that he was extremely jealous of.

But more than anything, what separated her from Tom was the fact that she hated. She hated people and was very vocal about it.

Her love fierce love, compassion and commitment of people didn't prove anything. Love and compassion could be faked, as Tom had proved for seven years. But Lily, she sincerely loathed James Potter and Sirius Black for the first five years of her Hogwarts career. And, on a deeper and much less petty level, she absolutely despised Voldemort.

She would learn to forgive Potter and Black in time for there poor taste in jokes, but the fact that she once upon a time hated to share the same air with them proved that she would never become another Tom Riddle. For while Tom hid his true emotions away from the world, only presenting what he needed to excel in his goals, Lily hid nothing. She loved what she loved and hated what she hated, both with every fiber of being she possessed.

Horace remained very close to Lily after she left Hogwarts, comforting her when her parents died, standing by her side when James had to go to St. Mungo's after barely escaping Voldemort.

One of the proudest moments of Horace's life was being able to take the place of her departed father and walk Lily down the aisle on her wedding day.

Unfortunately, after James and Lily had married they became much more involved in their work with the Order of the Phoenix and Horace rarely saw her.

The last time he ever saw Lily Potter was when he was invited over for supper a few months after Harry had been born. And Horace knew that he had never seen a happier trio than when he saw James play peak-a-boo with Harry using his Invisibility Cloak while Lily would make little butterfly's appear with her wand, watching with absolute adoration as her son tried to catch and swat at them with his pudgy fists. James and Lily only had eyes for Harry almost the whole night, but Horace didn't mind in the slightest. It was such joy and happiness that Horace hadn't seen since the war started, that he was afraid that by disrupting it, he would have to be taken to Azkaban for disturbance of the peace.

But then, almost three months later, Horace found himself carrying Lily Potter's coffin through a cemetery, placing her beside her cherished husband, and watching as she was laid to eternal sleep. The entire process, Horace didn't try and hide a single tear, letting all of the fall into his large, black mustache.

Horace couldn't stand it. Lily Evans was the brightest, most beautiful, loving student that he ever had the privilege to teach. And she was gone, taken, along with James and little Harry's chance at happiness, by the horror Horace had once called with tremendous pride his prized pupil.

The day after Lily died, he retired, wanting nothing to do with the school that taught Tom Riddle how to kill the girl he loved more than any teacher has a right to love a student. His love wasn't the kind that was perverted or even that of a teacher-student love. He saw Lily as the daughter he never had and now she would always be the daughter he had lost.

He thought he was done with Hogwarts, and when the Second War started, Horace began moving around trying to avoid both Voldemort and Dumbledore, knowing they both would be after his knowledge of Horcruxes.

But then he came to him. Not Dumbledore. Not Voldemort. Harry. The boy he had last seen playing with his parents 16 years earlier was in "his" living room.

And Horace's eyes didn't go to Harry's scar or his father's resemblance. They went to his eyes. The eyes that looked exactly like his mothers.

That was what drove Horace to accept Dumbledore's offer. Not the protection Hogwarts provided or the opportunity to add Harry to his collection (although those were strong reasons enough) but the chance to once again look into the eyes of Lily Evans everyday for two years was too good to pass up.

But now, the only chance Horace had to see Harry's eyes or any other part of him was in the Daily Prophet under the insane title 'Undesirable Number One.' And Horace so rarely looked at the Prophet anymore that those occasions were slim to none.

Now Horace was surrounded by the devils of his past.

He had taught not only Tom Riddle this time, but Horace had once taught the three people running the school with a bloody fist: Alecto and Amycus Carrow and Severus Snape.

When Horace was told that Severus had been the man who killed Dumbledore, one of two men that the country depended on to save them, a man who Horace respected beyond measure, Horace had been unable to stand.

The man who had been Lily Evans closest friend, who she sat next to and laughed and worked and even ate with, had just thrown her hero off the highest tower and ran like a coward.

Horace now had to run a house he had to hide how much he detested. Horace had never been more disgusted to be a Slytherin. During the first war, when Voldemort and his followers were killing every one in their path, Horace had never wavered in his faith of Slytherin. Even after Voldemort killed Lily, he couldn't bring himself to hate the house. 'The actions of a few mad men, however horrific and tragic, did not define a whole group' he had told himself.

That thought was no longer true. It seemed that the majority of the Slytherin's truly enjoyed the sick actions their teachers instructed. There was a small minority that seemed horrified at what they were forced to do, but they were too afraid to object. Horace could no longer defend his students the way had before. They were all slowly turning into the monsters that their parents were.

But just because his students were acting despicable, didn't mean he had to. As always, he was the exception to the Slytherin rule.

* * *

Horace had a free period one afternoon and was headed toward the Great Hall for an afternoon snack, when he was abruptly stopped.

A loud, piercing shriek penetrated the silence and brought Horace out of his thoughts. Unfortunately now, it was rather common for students and teachers to hear such sounds while walking through the corridors, but it still made Horace's shiver.

Knowing he would hate himself if he didn't find out what was behind the disruption, Horace found himself standing in front of the 'Dark Arts' classroom, as it was now called. The screams were even louder now.

When he opened the door, he was first greeted with the unblocked, straight from the mouth screams of a young Hufflepuff girl. She was on her side with her back facing Horace, so he couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to in order picture what it must look like now, as she twitched and flopped on the ground in tremendous agony.

Fortunately, the curser, Millicent Bulstrode, had let up her attack when Horace entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Horace," said Amycus Carrow, a sick smile plastered on his face.

"Good afternoon, Amycus," said Horace. "And what, may I ask, do we have going on here."

Carrow had walked up to the girl. "We were just teaching Miss. Muffus here what happens to those who don't do there homework." Carrow shoved the girl with his foot, turning her face so Horace could finally see it.

Horace couldn't have held back his gasp of shock if he wanted to. It was Elaine Muffus. A second year Hufflepuff who Horace happened to know loved potions and had a smile that could light the Great Hall it was so radiant.

Now, however, her eyes were bloodshot from the tears she was still crying, and her chin was covered in blood that had come from both her lips and her tongue, from what Horace could only guess was from a desperate battle to not let the bastards here her scream. A battle she had lost. And now her large, blue eyes were connected with Horace's, silently pleading for help.

"You did this to her," Horace said in restrained anger, "because she didn't do her homework?"

"Well, as you can see, Miss. Bulstrode was the one cursing the brat, not me, Horace," said Carrow, a vile smile across his face. "And she didn't exactly _not_ do her homework; it was that she got five questions wrong."

"Out of how many," Horace asked, trying to fully grasp the situation.

"Out of forty. But we told the brat that for every question she got wrong, she would be punished that long,"

Horace couldn't hold back his rage. "You have been torturing this girl for five minutes!" asked a horrified Horace.

"Well," sneered Carrow, "her father is a muggle, and that couldn't go unpunished, so I told Miss. Bulstrode to go for an even 10. But," Carrow said, ignoring Horace's look of rage, and looking at his watch, "we were only at minute 8 when you interrupted us, so we will have to start again. Miss. Bulstrode."

Elaine's tears were practically rivers by now, as she looked at Horace and mouthed 'Help me' before Millicent raised her wand again, said "_Crucio_" and Elaine was once again screaming at the top of her lungs, limbs flailing uncontrollably.

Horace couldn't stand it. His face hardened, he raised his wand at Millicent and said "_Expelliarmus._"

The torture ended instantly as Millicent's wand flew from her hand.

"What are you doing!" roared Carrow, looking more grotesque than ever.

"I am ending this. Miss. Muffus has learned her lesson." Horace then turned to Millicent, who had picked up her wand and said, "You will never touch this girl again, Miss. Bulstrode. Do you understand me?"

Before either Carrow or Millicent could respond, Horace bent over, gently picked up the still crying and twitching girl and carried her out of the room.

"You can't do that!" roared an enraged Carrow, his wand out. "You have no authority and –"

"You may be a Death Eater, Professor Carrow, but Miss. Bulstrode is a student. And she is in my house. I have full authority over what she does and doesn't do," Horace said, turning to the monster who called himself a teacher. And without another word, Horace walked away.

Elaine was now clinging to Horace as he walked down the staircase. She tried to say something, her lips still bleeding, but Horace cut her off.

"Don't try to talk, child. Save your strength. Soon you will be in your common room and you will get the rest you need."

He had passed the Great Hall, his earlier quest for a snack driven from his mind.

When he arrived at the painting he knew to be the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, he said to Elaine, "Miss. Muffus, please whisper to me what the password is."

He leaned his ear as close to her as possible, trying to keep her from moving. She told him so softly, that if any other noise were being made at the moment, he probably wouldn't have heard her. When he had the password, smiled at her and said to the painting, "Cedric" and it slid to the side, revealing the entryway. He climbed in and entered the common room.

"Professor Slughorn what are you Oh my god, Elaine," Hannah Abbott said, rushing to his side. The whole common room watched as he placed her on a couch and Hannah and Susan Bones, both trained in some healing for Dumbledore's Army injuries, began working on her.

Horace told Ernie MacMillian what had happened and began to leave, not being able to stand this any longer.

"Wait, Professor!" Horace turned and saw Susan Bones rush up to him as he exited the common room.

"What is it, Miss. Bones? Will Miss. Muffus be alright?"

Susan frowned as she said, "She was roughed up really bad. She will have to rest for a day at least before she can get up."

"But she told me to give and tell you something before you left," she said, smiling slightly now.

"What ever she wanted to give me, tell her she can keep it. I was just…" he trailed off when Susan leaned in and kissed his cheek. She leant back and said, "She wanted me to give you that, and to thank you for saving her life." She smiled before adding, "You're easily her's, and all of ours, favorite Slytherin." Then she went back inside to see to her patient.

Horace just stood there, unable to properly process all that had happened in the past 10 minutes.

Then, Horace Slughorn, man of 78 years old, fell against a wall, sinking to the floor. He had his face buried in his hands, and was crying. Crying in a way he hadn't since Lily Potter's funeral. All the while, he was thinking, "I hate Tom Riddle. I hate Tom Riddle. I hate Tom Riddle."

* * *

That was much longer than I expected. I just really like Slughorn. His character is much more fascinating than it seems at first glance.


End file.
